


in which Tony has some issues to work out and Clint gives really good hugs

by Sablehaven



Category: Iron Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Cuddling, Team as Family, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 07:25:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11270814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sablehaven/pseuds/Sablehaven
Summary: Tony only really shows his issues when he's drugged and when that finally happens, the Avengers decide they should probably do something about this.





	in which Tony has some issues to work out and Clint gives really good hugs

His skin was aching. It was a strange feeling, like someone lit a fire just beneath the surface. Every inch of him hurt, a dull burning throb in tune with his heart beat. It just didn't make sense for loneliness to be _painful_. But here he was, so very, very _tired_.

 

Tony curled up in the center of a queen sized bed, rubbing at his arms to try and soothe the aching, it wasn't working. It used to work, a long time ago when he was still just a kid, but now? Tony didn't know why he still bothered. At least he wasn't crying, right? It always sucked when that happened. Then Jarvis got all worried, and everyone would think he was hung over even though he was done drinking. Not that anyone really believed that.

 

Tony whimpered softly, ignoring Jarvis's soft inquiry, and curled up tighter. What he really needed was a hug. A nice long, tight hug, the kind he only ever got from Pepper and sometimes the Hulk, after nearly dying. But that was ridiculous, he was Tony Fucking Stark, he did not need anything and anyone who told you otherwise was a fucking liar. Tony included himself in that statement.

 

He finally drifted off, Jarvis's concerns unanswered as ever, and his whole body still aching.

 

  
The day started with sirens and ended with even more pain than usual. What a typical day in the life of Tony Stark. Wake up. Get yelled at by Fury. Save the day. Bleed a bit. Get yelled at by Steve for getting hurt. Get bandaged up by Bruce. Watch Bruce yell at Steve. Go to bed alone. Always alone.

 

At least this time Tony was kept awake by a more traditional, logical kind of pain. The 'my entire chest is a giant bruise and breathing hurts even more than usual kind.'

 

Nice and distracting. He could finally think of something other than how badly he just wanted touched. It was almost nice, getting injured like this. It meant having Bruise's gentle, calloused hands on him for a few minutes. Damn his ridiculous efficiency.

 

 _No, no. Bad Stark._ He didn't need that. He was fine. He was fine.

 

  
Everything still hurt when he woke up, and didn't get any better as he rolled out of bed, Jarvis's droll voice telling him where the painkillers were, along side his usual morning report.

 

"You're a saint. An angel." Tony groaned as he dry swallowed two pills. Recommended dosage. He had to stick to the recommended dosage.

 

"I know Sir, but thank you. Might I recommend a shower before breakfast? You look.. I have no polite way to say this."

 

Tony grimaced and studiously did not look in the mirror. "Better not then, Jarvis. I'll shower in the workshop, have some donuts sent down?" Tony finger combed his hair and pulled on a button up shirt. He wasn't quite ready to put his arms over his head yet, and his shirt from last night had been cut off for that very same reason.

 

"..Very well Sir."

 

The kitchen, when Tony stepped out of the elevator, was full enough that he had the distinct feeling of being ambushed. Bruce smiled warmly at him from the stove and Tony resisted the urge to hiss, like a cornered cat. "Hey Tony, I made breakfast."

 

This was _definitely_ an ambush. Tony stared suspiciously and started to edge towards his workshop. His safe, safe workshop where these conniving tempters weren't there to lure him with daydreams about nice warm hugs. And sausages, oh god Bruce made sausages.

 

Clint slipped off the counter and made his way, unobtrusively towards Tony's exit, and he considered bolting for it. No. This was irrational. And silly. And if they felt so strongly about it, Tony could just sit through one team breakfast. He could do this. He could.

 

Tony very reluctantly changed directions to perch, nervously on a chair at the kitchen table. Steve gave him a look that Tony felt was unfairly startled and proud. Tony socialized, he wasn't a hermit, this wasn't that unusual. It wasn't like he spent _all_ his time hiding in the workshop from any and all social interaction. Really. It was just easier to spend at least most of it down there. He didn't need these constant reminders of what he couldn't have.

 

Steve cleared his throat, and slowly, Tony realized that everyone was staring at him. Well. He didn't have nightmares like this. Not at all.

 

"So, Tony.. How are you're ribs?" Tony blinked at him, almost dumbfounded by the question.

 

"Really, Steve? Really? That is how you are starting this conversation? Not even a hello? Just skip straight to the bruised ribs question?" No. No Tony was not deflecting, why would you ask that?

 

Steve actually managed not to scowl at him, and Tony was a little bit impressed. Until Natasha sat next to him, then he was mostly just a little afraid. Not that Natasha was an inherently violent person, she was just really really good at violence, and Tony was pretty sure she hated him. Not that he really blamed her for that, he was kind of an obnoxious person.

 

"Tony." He didn't look at her. He studied the suddenly fascinating grain of the wood table and very carefully _did not look at her_. That usually worked. People got tired of asking and left, then he could go back into denial. Denial was nice. And cozy, and safe.

 

"Tony, are you okay?"

 

That. That was not normal. People asked that all the time, as a kind of formality people believe they need to fulfill, but Natasha was barely asking. No, she already knew the answer. How did she know? She couldn't know, Tony had been pretending to be okay for upwards of thirty years and no one had ever called him out on it. She didn't know.

 

He gave her a look that he hoped didn't look completely panicked. No, he looked panicked, and she looked concerned. "I'm fine. Why would you ask if I'm okay? I'm Tony fucking Stark." He meant to sound breezy and cocky, but it mostly just came out a bit desperate.

 

"Last night, Tony." Tony paused, trying to make sense of the words. Nothing happened last night, they just fought some new threat to the city, he nearly got his ribs caved and Bruce drugged him to gills t- oh. Oh no.

 

What the fuck had he said to them.

 

Last night came rushing back. He hadn't said anything, no. He'd been stripped of his walls and his defenses and he'd fucking whimpered. Whimpered when Bruce touched him and hadn't even been coherent enough to brush it off or, thankfully, to explain when Steve asked him what was wrong.

 

"Last night was nothing." Tony gave up trying to brush it off and instead got up and headed for his workshop. His safe, safe workshop where.. where Clint was still standing. Fuck.

 

Clint gave him a slow thoughtful look, not dissimilar to the one he gave his bows when one of them was giving him trouble. After a long, drawn out second while Tony weighed to pros and cons of various ways out of this situation, Clint opened his arms. Fuck. This.

 

Tony was just turning to run for the elevator when Clint pulled him into a hug. Tony's brain.. sort of shut down. Something that wasn't quite a panic attack took over and left him stiff as a board in Clint's stubborn arms. Minutes passed and slowly Tony began to relax. Clint wasn't letting go. He wasn't leaving. No one was leaving.

 

Tony melted into Clint's arms, basking in the warmth and the feeling of Clint's arms wrapped securely around him. The kitchen was silent, and Tony couldn't see why, which scared him a little, but he felt safe. Far, far too safe. _Fuck._

 

You see, Tony lived a life of carefully cultivated paranoia. It kept him from taking poisoned envelopes and drinking stuff he's let out of his sight for even a second. Feeling safe wasn't good. On the other hand, it was so, so good.

 

Tony whimpered and Clint started petting his hair, as if that would make things better, not worse. Not okay. Not okay.

 

Behind him, Thor cleared his throat and Tony tried not to flinch. "Mayhaps, we should take this to the recreational room? There is room enough for all of us there."

 

"Excellent idea Thor. Come on Tony, we can eat breakfast on the couch. and cuddle, because good god do you need it." Clint started to pull Tony along as he talked, an arm remaining snug around Tony's waist. And that did it. Tony started to struggle weakly, attempting to tug out of Clint's grip.

 

And.. it worked. Clint let him go and Tony found himself free, his heart jumped at the loss and Tony fought against the urge to throw himself back into Clint's arms. No. This was fine, he didn't need this. No matter what Clint said or how good it felt.

 

"It's okay Tony." Steve was talking again and Tony considered making another bolt for the workshop. He doubted it would work, but it was worth a shot. Steve had his hands up, palms forward and spread out, like Tony was frightened animal or something. Frightened, sure. He was terrified, but he did know they weren't going to hurt him. Not physically.

 

"You're safe with us Tony. We're not going to let anything happen to you" the suspicious look he gave Natasha was maybe a little harsh, and he could see the hurt in her eyes before she shook it off. She'd been a spy in his company before, when he was dying.

 

It was Thor's hand that clasped his shoulder, and Tony didn't manage to contain his flinch. Which.. wasn't good.

 

"Come Shield Brother. We shall rest in the recreational room and no harm will come to you. You have my vow."

 

For the first time, Tony hesitated and wondered. Trusting people had never gone well for him. Obie.

 

But this was different, wasn't it? Weren't they? He'd lived with them for years now, and he wasn't naive anymore, he trusted them. He could trust them.

 

Tony let the silence draw out as he processed his decision. Was he doing this? Really doing this? Yes. Tony leaned into Thor's hand, fear drumming in his chest. This was okay. Tony could trust them, and he would.

 

Thor's arm slid around his shoulder and he gently pulled Tony along, Tony's numb legs only just keeping up. He was watching the world through a haze of confusion and disbelief, his world tilting on it's axis. There were a few simple rules of reality for Tony; alcohol was a noose he would always want to hang himself with, people would always spend just a few week trying to fix him before giving up, no one would take him without changing him, Jarvis would never leave him or betray him, everyone else was just a matter of time.

 

Tony wasn't entirely sure if this was breaking that last rule, but it sure felt like it was.

 

"You still with us Tony?" Clint joked while gently pulling him down onto the couch, wedging Tony neatly between him and Thor. Tony sat there while everyone else piled onto the couch around him and Natasha began to flip through the channels, slowly processing the full, overwhelming physical contact he was surrounded by.

 

It was.. incredible. Tony let his eyes close, melting into Thor's side while Clint threw an arm over his shoulders and Natasha draped herself over everyone's laps, the opening theme music of A-Team washing over him.

 

Everything was okay.

**Author's Note:**

> I did my best to convey, with the style of narration, the repetition of certain statements and self-assurances what kind of mental state Tony was in. He is sleep deprived, in pain, somewhat unstable and simultaneously scared of abandonment and attachment.
> 
> Touch starvation, what Tony is going through, is a very real thing and can be painful in the way I described, especially in extreme circumstances like Tony's.
> 
> It should also be noted, I have literally no memory of writing any of this, including the above notes, think of that what you will.


End file.
